


Round Two

by aquandrian



Category: The Cell (movie)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-01
Updated: 2004-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquandrian/pseuds/aquandrian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: Belongs entirely to Tarsem Singh and co. I just have a terrible fascination with this movie. And today, for the first time it really really really pissed me off.</p><p>Originally posted at http://ame-soeur.livejournal.com/22506.html</p><p>I assume the <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/">contrelamontre</a> challenge of vacation holds for this community too. Almost posted this there before I realised it wasn't slash. *winces* Took half an hour to write and another twenty minutes to think of the title. I took the concept of vacation as in 'a vacation from reality', hope that works...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round Two

Catherine Queen collared and prone, tan and red leather cuff around her crying throat. But she’s writhing and it’s a hideous ecstasy, she’s writhing for the bull white bad man crawling up her sensibly clad body. Black satin flows over her legs, thick heavy warm, and she knows there’s flesh beneath that sinuous skin, hard white strong marbled furred with palest hair. Albino King breathes over her clothed thighs, cocaine grace in the shift of his broad shoulders. He breathes in cunt scent, through the thin layers of panties and tight trousers, he smells her and she knows this, it crawls under her skin, burrows like tiny pearls of sand irritating the oyster flesh of her sanctimonious philanthropy.

He curves himself over her abdomen, glances up slow and coquettish, a strange coloured eye half obscured by the twisted toppled horns of black hair. Cuckold, she thinks, but he’s not, and she reaches in drugged ecstasy, knowing she shouldn’t touch. You’ve gone in too deep, instinct is screaming panic, but her hand is a breath from his shoulder and his breath is on her cheek, his breath of river rotting flesh and clean sharp vanilla. Cuts across her fractured mind, the cold marble expanse of his shoulders fills her vision and yet he surrounds her with warmth. They like the feeling of weightlessness, dead child in her womb, dead girl in his room.

The Albino King braces himself on his cocaine dusted arms, looks down at her. And Catherine Queen arches her collared throat, blood pearls collecting in the hollow at the base of her neck, eyes wide and gathering darkness. It’s no longer her world, this is her new world, a crimson gold queen in a guilt coruscated realm. Her hand finds black heavy satin, scrabbles and pulls it aside. Him on his back, hard against the cold hard floor, glimmer of cold from the blue neon window. The walls corrode conscience, she pulls open her trousers, shows the wide eyed frightened boy the place all men fear, and laughs at him when he flinches. Your daddy taught you wrong, boy. Your daddy told you lies. Your daddy was a scared little man.

Catherine Queen’s mouth tastes of womb rich blood and sharp hot coffee. She feels the big white bullied man shiver, her hands pushing down on his shoulders, but his mouth pulls at hers. She bites, draws his blood, he recoils and she smiles, a beautiful cruelty of satisfaction. Black satin ripped away, his naked white thighs all furred with pale hair fall open, and he’s scared and he’s hard but she doesn’t care. Curls her arms over her head, parody of heavenly grace and she brings her hands down. She’ll not collar him. Her hands slide over her breasts, over her abdomen, the place all men yearn, and he watches her fingers part the curls between her thighs. Mummy did do a bad thing, she didn’t make you the monster you are. She gave you free will.

An angry inch shows, swells hard, slides forth tongue of white and tip of red. The cocaine cuckold breathes in quick and hard, his fists clenched by his side. And the crimson coffee queen slides her cock into him, fucks him raw until he screams and bleeds his own murderous blood. Because your daddy taught you wrong, boy, you can’t remake the world and women the way you want, we don’t dance for you or moan for you or reach for you. Boy, we fuck you raw until you crawl right back into us.

And what world do you live in?  
\---------

Additional reference: **Hedwig & The Angry Inch** ... couldn't resist, sorry. :p


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